When I am Lost
by sentbyfools
Summary: Frozen Swan. It's flu season in Storybrooke, and even Ice Queens are not immune.


**title: **when I am lost (you come and get me free)

**summary: **It's flu season in Storybrooke, and even Ice Queens are not immune.

**notes:** for emmasneverland who requested frozen swan for BESF. Suggested listening is "Monster" by The Almost which IS frozen swan, "Lego House" by Ed Sheeran, and "You Get Me" by Michelle Branch (because I am nothing if not predictable).

* * *

><p>"This is ridiculous."<p>

The words are strangled, punctured by more heavy breaths than they would normally be.

(Not that Emma knows the cadence of Elsa's voice.

Not that she hears it on nights when sleep is the nightmare, and the cold seeps in to her bones - icy fingers drawing ever closer -

Funny how Elsa's fingers only ever felt _warm_.)

A sneeze tears through Elsa - and the room. Emma can only shake her head and smile as Elsa glares at the box of Kleenex resting on her quilt covered knees like it's kidnapped Anna and is holding her hostage over a pit of molten lava.

"Catching a cold in October doesn't really strike me as ridiculous."

Elsa's huffy smile comes as expected. She breaks her _icy_ standoff with the Kleenex in favour of turning her Rudolph red-nosed (and okay the ice jokes can stop at any time) pout on Emma.

"I don't catch colds. Whether it's October or July, this _doesn't_ happen. Not to me!"

Elsa shudders. She lifts her hands before her like she's about to lay down a wall of ice, her eyes fluttering shut.

After a moment when the sneeze doesn't come, she lays down her hands, opening her eyes to glare mournfully at her lap. "What kind of curse _is_ this?"

Emma steps towards her then, cradling the now cool enough to drink cup of tea in her hands. She hadn't meant to steep the kettle for so long, but she'd been distracted.

(Not that a sleep tousled Elsa is a particularly distracting event.

Seeing fairytale characters in normal clothes lost its charm the first time Emma wore a corset. Suffice to say, t-shirts and leggings are a blessing she'll never take for granted again. But Elsa stepping out of her room looking less than queenly in her Hello Kitty PJs, with her blonde hair frizzed and matted to her neck with sweat -

Well, Elsa sweating is cause enough for a distraction.)

"It's not a curse," Emma says, handing Elsa the tea. She doesn't move her hands away until she is sure Elsa's are secure on the mug. Their fingers brush, Elsa's touch warm on her skin. Too warm.

(Not that she lingers long enough to notice.

Usually.)

She chuckles, sharp and dry, and slips her hands into the pockets of her jeans where they are safe - from Elsa's germs.

"It's just the flu."

Elsa closes her eyes and inhales the tea's steam. She looks exhausted, her usually regally poised shoulders slumped over, her hair brushed out of its signature braid to hang, lifeless across her back. Emma keeps her hands in her pockets.

(Not to prevent her from reaching out, placing her palm on Elsa's forehead, and brushing that one bothersome hair out of her face.

Elsa looks like she's carrying the plague. Emma _hates_ being sick.)

"Well, I don't like it."

"No one does," Emma says.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out to look at the incoming text.

_ Mom_: is everything okay? David said you stayed home to take care of Elsa? do you need me to bring anything?

Emma starts to type off a text and is jolted mid spacing when Elsa sneezes again. Her hands are splayed out before she realizes she's doing it, to stop the inevitable fall of the mug -

- that rests steady in Elsa's cupped hands.

She may struggle with her magic the same, but it's only Emma who struggles with basic motor functions, it seems.

"I could go to Whale, get something to make you feel better -"

"No!"

The cup does fall this time, but the empty mug only rolls on Emma's carpeted floor. Her and Elsa both chase after it on their hands and knees. Emma's hand lands first, and Elsa's atop it. She looks up from the penguins dancing on the ceramic mug and Elsa's hand, cradling her own.

When their eyes meet, all they can do is laugh.

"I feel terrible," Elsa groans, sitting back on knees.

"You don't look that hot, either," Emma jokes.

(Not that the loose hair is a bad look.

Change, as Emma is finally learning, isn't always a bad thing.)

Elsa closes her eyes and groans again, whether from the joke or the cold, Emma isn't sure.

"I should go and get you something. We may not have a magic cure for the flu, but we do have medicine, and that is just as good - and much less likely to backfire and turn you into a frog."

Elsa's chuckle dies fast. She opens her eyes again, and by the way her hands squeeze and tangle in the carpet beside her, Emma knows she's nervous about her next words.

"No, please - please just stay. Stay with me." Her voice drops to an almost whisper. Defeated. Small. "I feel _cold_. I don't want to be alone."

Emma does reach out this time, germs be damned. Crawls to her feet and pulls Elsa with her. Maybe Elsa feels cold, but she doesn't notice it, not when Elsa's hand is held in her own.

"And you don't have to be, I'll stay."

Elsa's smile is so relieved, Emma doesn't even think _not_ to draw her other hand to her, hold them both clasped tightly in hers.

(Not that she would ever _think_ not to.

Not when Elsa's breath ghosts out like ice filling her lungs.

Emma's nightmare come to life. )

"Besides, it's awkward, knowing he's Frankenstein and he and my mom - ugh, I don't even want to talk about it."

Elsa laughs, which turns into a sneeze, that she covers with her elbow while her hands are still hooked in Emma's. Emma stumbles into Elsa's arms and they tremble for a moment, on the verge of collapsing to the floor - again.

They steady themselves out, but don't separate.

It's so warm, here, wrapped up together, that Emma understands why the cold never bothers Elsa. She can't imagine Elsa ever being cold, when she is just so, so warm.

"I'm going to get you sick," Elsa says. She doesn't even look worried, her smile too blinding.

"Well, I probably already am," Emma says. "I feel warm."

Elsa's smile shrinks and her fingers twist in Emma's, shaky. She looks down and Emma is definitely sick. Feverish even.

She's looking at her lips.

"So."

Now, Emma's looking at _her_ lips.

"I guess that means this won't hurt then," Elsa says.

Emma meets her halfway. The kiss is sweet, but not gentle. It's too hungry for that. Emma's head swirls, her stomach curls into knots.

_Fever when you hold me tight_.

Elsa breaks the kiss to let out a small cough.

In Emma's face.

Emma blinks slowly, laughing. "Yeah, not a bit. Let's get you to couch, Queen Cold and Flu, before you spread your disease to anymore surfaces."

Elsa lets herself be led to the couch, and she doesn't even fuss when Emma tucks her in beneath the quilt. Once she draws the other chair up to the couch, Elsa entwines their fingers together and Emma doesn't let go even after she finally passes out.

(Not that she would.

She just holds on and lets the cadence of Elsa's breathing soothe her to sleep.)


End file.
